Eagle Man

I’m standing by a river where I watch a man emerge out of the water holding a golden eagle over his head. The man is naked to the waist. He doesn’t actually grasp the eagle, but rather the man’s fingertips are just touching the eagle’s wing tips.

Then the man disappears and just the eagle is left suspended in the air over the river. The eagle is not flapping its wings. It is almost as though the eagle is posed in the air, wings curved downward. I stand looking at the water and the eagle. It’s as though I have stepped into a picture. That is the feeling. The river water is so beautiful that it almost seems alive. Then I say, “Oh, I see, I am dreaming! This scene is a dream. I have stepped into a dream.” I fly up into the air above the river. A rush of joy fills me as I fly higher. “I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming,” I keep repeating as I soar about high above the river. I am nearly overcome with joy.

In the distance I see some adobe buildings and swoop toward them. Now I am above these houses. I had intended to land near the houses and check them out, but now I get a new idea. Instead of landing on the ground, I will dive straight into the ground and see what that will be like. I turn in the air and dive straight down, but when I get to the earth, the ground keeps receding away in front of me until I am flying down a tunnel. This is not what I had in mind. What I wanted was to be flying through solid dirt and rock, underground. So now I turn to fly into the side of the tunnel, but when I hit the dirt, I stop. I hover there in the tunnel. “OK,” I reason, “the dream doesn’t want me to fly into the ground.”

I turn and fly up out of the tunnel and high into the air above the ground. I fly back to the house where we were sleeping and fly inside. This house is not our house. It seems we are guests here. I want to write down this dream before too much time goes by and I forget parts of it.

Unfortunately, I can only find small scraps of paper to write on. Only a few words will fit on each scrap. Also, the other people in the house keep talking to me and I know I am forgetting details of my dream as times goes on. In fact, at this point I think I am now awake. I ask someone if there are any larger pieces of paper than I can have to write my dream on. Then I really awaken and record my dream. (2:15 a.m.)

Note: As I write this dream in my notebook, I keep having the strong feeling that I am in fact not remembering all of it.